[Vacation :: Day 3]*

I'm going cray-cray.

Since I started posting about our trip to St. George a few weeks ago (only got through day 2), we have gone on two more beach trips and are headed out on another one this weekend...

Yikes.

Also, one of our memory cards is MIA.  Thank the LORD that it did not have any client photos on it, but a big chunk of our trip photos are temporarily (hopefully) misplaced.

Double-yikes.

Let's recap: The Gilberts are our friend Lindsay's parents, brother, sister-in-law and nieces and nephews.  How do you describe the Gilberts? Like Ryan and Lindsay, they also are just great people. Salt of the earth people who make us feel like we are part of their family too.  We've spent weekends with the whole crew in Alabama, in the North Ga mountains (where I learned to water ski--finally!), at their home in Rome, GA and now in Florida.

They exude Southern hospitality effortlessly.  They love to laugh.  Let me clarify, they love to laugh at one another.  And they give each other plenty of material (especially the guys).  Best of all, they genuinely love one another. In fact, after spending so much time with them, I'm convinced there is no where they would rather be than in one another's company.  Which is such a cool thing to see.

All that to say, we always have a total blast when they invite us along.  They have been so good to us and we are thankful that our friendships with Ryan and Lindsay have branched out to include their whole family.  They are a blessing to us.  And experiences like the one we shared with them on St. George Island do more for our spirits than they will ever know!

Lessons Learned [ Vacation :: Day 2 ]*

Things I learned today:

1. It is good to surround yourself with people who do not judge you when you eat multiple lunches.  It is great to surround yourself with people who tell you, "Those aren't lunches; A hamburger, baked beans and tater tots is a snack."

2. I had many "snacks" today.  It boosts my metabolism, right?  Eating three lunches should cause me to lose weight.  I may be coming back from this trip a string-bean.

3.  Fried fish tails are delicious.  As are grouper cheek and red snapper throat.  Oh, and oysters too: Apalach style, raw and fried.  Can't believe I resisted so long.  If you think you would hate them by have never tried, this is my plea, Give Oysters a Chance. They would be included in my "snack" list from today.  Getting skinnier by the minute.

[ Vacation :: Day 1 ]*

Day 1: Travel to St. George Island to stay with our friends, Ryan and Lindsay and Lindsay's family.

We were supposed to leave at 5 pm on Wednesday night.   By the time we finally pulled out of the driveway at 9:27 am on Thursday.

David insisted on backroads. He gawked at "these beeeauuuutiful views, steph".  I pouted and said, at least--oh I don't know--a trillion times that we should have taken highways.  We encountered detours, tractors on the street and the speedometer barely made it over 55 mph.  But as we would see halfway through the trip, when our tire exploded, that 55 feels like your FLYING when compared to riding to another state on a donut the size of a huffy tire.

I won't say how long it took us to get to the beach.  I will just say we made it.  Barely.  The same could be said about our relationship.

Just kidding.  Kind of.

[ The Rest of our Anniversary ]*

Can I just tell you that I married a guy with a heart bigger than Texas?

He's just plain sweet.

I came home from work on our anniversary to beautiful sunflowers and yellow roses.

And the silliest/romantic "us" card you can imagine.

Then he whisked (what a great word-whisk!), he whisked me off to a surprise getaway in the mountains. (Right near where we were married. See, I told you he was sweet.)

Okay, I have never used this blog as an advertisement, but I'm about to give a ruthless plug for the next 5 minutes (or 10 if you are a slow reader/ picture looker) :).

We stayed at the Glen-Ella Springs Inn--and, if I am lying, I am dying--this is the CA-YOU-TEST place we will ever find.

Charming out the wazoo. Here's our room:

HUGE porches dotted with rocking chairs looking out at the mountains. No TVs or computers or phones. Instrumental music in the background. Delicious, gourmet Southern meals. Beautiful and aromatic flower gardens. Twinkle lights in all the trees. Homemade apple butter and granola. Drying hydrangeas on every table. Cute as a button innkeeper who loves the Lord and enjoys talking about life over the morning's cheese and wine casserole.

CA-YUTE.

We spent all day Friday doing nothing.  Not a dag-um thing.  That was a first in our entire four years. We have NEVER just relaxed together for 24 hours.  And ummm....it was fabulous.

Picnic on the huge lawn overlooking the inn's 16 acres of mountains? Yes, please.

Cokes in glass bottles? Now we are talking.

Handsome fellow reading beside me? I can handle that.

(Handsome husband reading did not last long.  Shortly after this photo was taken, he passed out for a four hour nap while I continued to devour my book.  The nap was complete with numerous violent snorts which provided unlimited entertainment.)

Like usual, we went exploring and passed by my favorite church in Sautee-Nacoochee.  (This is where I really wanted to get married but it was too small.  It is in the middle of a pasture and when we went to look at it during our engagement, there were cows right up against the windows looking into the sanctuary at us.  How great is that?) This is the beautiful front door and stained glass:

And our anniversary dinner was celebrated at Bernie's Restaurant, also in Sautee.  This is such a sweet place for us.  It is where we had our rehearsal dinner AND Bernie catered our wedding.  She is an angel.  Last time we came in (which was about 3 years after our wedding) one of the waitresses recognized us and immediately ran up to hug us and gushed about how our wedding was her favorite that she has ever been too--which was hilarious since she didn't even know us!

Like Glen-Ella Springs Inn, if you can ever make it to Bernie's, you MUST! These picts were taken with just candlelight, so they don't do the food justice, but it is the best!

Roasted red pepper bisque

With caramelized onions and bacon

Bacon Wrapped Filet Mignon Raifort

Accompanied by a horseradish compound butter

New Zealand Rack of Lamb

Seared and roasted with cherry tomatoes accented by a balsamic vinegar reduction

We can't even remember the name of the cake.  David called it Cuss Cake because, as he told the waitress, it was so good it made you want to cuss.

I, on the other hand, took one bite and closed my eyes. David thought I was just really enjoying it but the truth was (and I am actually very embarrassed that I am even admitting this) I took one bite and my eyes IMMEDIATELY welled up with tears.  WELLED UP.  To the point where I knew that if I opened them that tears would STREAM down my cheeks.  I'm still not sure why I had such a strong reaction.  Yes, it was the most delicious taste that I had ever experienced, but really?!? Am I going to cry about it??  It took me a good 2 minutes before I felt comfortable opening my eyes again.  So, David then explained to the waitress that Cuss Cake was now called Cry Cake.

When we were packing up our room, I wrote in the guest book, "We came to celebrate 4 years of marriage, but now we are wondering if we could just move in with you?"

If I hear from the innkeeper, I will let you know.

And here are a few photos from the self-timer:

[ Livin' it Up ]*

[ St. Simon's - April 2010 - Part 1 ]*

A few weeks ago we went to St. Simon's Island with our friends Jessica + Mark.

There was lots of beach time for us girls. Catching up, laughing about the past & dreaming about our futures.  Fortunately there are no photos of the beach portion of our trip (other than the one above) because Jess + I agreed to a firm No beach photos rule.  There are just some things that you don't want all the world to see. 

Now that I think about it though, that rule doesn't seem so necessary.  Modest doesn't even come close to explaining our attire.

Prudish? Amish? PURITANICAL.

Jess decided to wear a mix-and-match bathing suit. Cool. Except she combined a top that had an attached skirt with a bottom that also had a skirt.  Yep, double coverage. We laughed at her the whole time. 28-years-old and elderly. The only thing missing was a parasol and some knickers. And somehow, despite all of her attempts to cover herself, her buttocks got TORCHED. She couldn't hardly walk for the rest of the trip, lathered herself in Noxzema and considered buying an inflatable donut to sit on in restaurants. 

. . .And of course, you can guess what the boys did:

Angelo's Hairport

On our way to Ambergris Caye (off of the coast of Belize) a few summers ago, Jay (my father-in-law) and I decided we needed some adventure. We had both worked right up until our day of departure, so we were both looking rather scraggly (and we didn't want to look like bums in all of our vacation photos), so it only made sense for us to find a salon in Miami during our layover. So off we went on the airport tram to the "salon" featured on the directory.

We were giddy from the beginning, because our spouses thought we were total weirdos...and oddly enough we both seem to feed off of that. (And that, my friends, is a dangerous combo.)

As we approach the salon, we are a little taken back by what we see. It is located right in the middle of the terminal. There are no walls surrounding it. In their place is a chainlink fence surrounding about half a dozen salon chairs.

It is straight-up ghetto.

Looks like a prison barber shop.

And the name echoed the same sense of classiness that the decor did. Welcome to Angelo's Hairport.

The shock was all over our faces. But we had both talked so big, neither one of us was willing to back down.

We sit down in the metal chairs that were bolted to the floor. I must have made eye contact with the lady at the counter first, because she nods in my direction and motions for me to follow her to the back of the fenced-in area. She has maroon hair. Maroon. And it is in a pony tail with a scrunchie (via 1991) positioned on the tippy-top of her head. Dare I even mention the perm?

I start telling her about what I want: "I normally have my hair layered a little-not too much--just to make it not so mushroomish. Blah, blah, blah." I want to make sure she doesn't do something to me that my regular stylist will scold me for later.

I assume she knows what I am saying to her.

I assume wrong.

She speaks not one word of english.

In response to my explanation, she uses her hand to make a scissors motion and then shrugs her shoulders.

English translation: "Do you want a haircut?"

I nod yes. I've committed.

Jay is looking at me with panic in his eyes. He knows that we are going to get into some serious trouble for this. And as we exchange fearful glances, my stylist starts butchering my hair. You know how most people pull your hair through their fingers and then chop below their fingers? Her technique was a little different. She cut closer to your head.

Hair is flying through the air. I try to not catch glimpses of myself in the mirror because I know at any minute I will laugh or cry. She isn't remotely precise or focused; it could most closely be described as manic. My manic haircut only lasts about 10 minutes. And the quality reflects it. I stand up upon completion to find myself with a she-mullet.

My "stylist" looks at Jay and nods. (English translation: "You are next".) He emphatically nods "no" and points to the other lady that was cutting hair. There was no way he was going to let her do to him what she did to me.

He takes the other lady's chair and I plant myself in the bolted prison seat again.

Believe it or not, his decision was much worse than mine.

I look up after only a few minutes and bust out laughing. In fact, I have to hide behind a hair magazine. Right before my eyes,my father-in-law is being transformed into Dwight Schrute:



We laugh all the way back to the terminal where our wife/mother-in-law and husband/son are waiting for us--not knowing if they would be amused, horrified or totally t.o.ed.

I think the photo of my mother-in-law's reaction captured their sentiments quite accurately:

{ I couldn't stop laughing long enough to open my eyes. }

{ Please note: the girl-mullet as well as the people in the background who were totally disturbed by the scene before them. }

{ We decided this looked more reasonable than the other option. }

You also need to know that this is not the first time my father-in-law made this mistake. Once while in a small-town barber shop in the land-locked state of Arkansas, he sat down and and asked for a "Surfer-cut".

I may have been young and naive, but he should have known better.

A little more about the trip

Here is a video I made about our recent trip to South Asia. { Please doubleclick it so that you can watch it in widescreen view, otherwise half of the text and video will be cut off }.

It was my very first attempt at video creation (yikes!), and although I'm not sure we will ever be able to adequately express what we experienced, I hope that it reveals just a tiny bit of what God did within us while we were there. (And I hope you enjoy it too!)




-Stephanie Cannon

Feet

My dad had the most masculine features. I bet when he and my mom were expecting their first child they both hoped he would inherit all of my dad’s strong physical traits.

A strong, square jaw, broad angular shoulders. Flat, wide feet. (Okay, maybe they didn’t daydream about his feet-but you get what I am saying.)

And, as they probably wished, their firstborn did inherit all of those manly traits. Ironically, though, their first child was a baby girl. Ah-hum, yours truly to be exact.

And although some may think otherwise, the manly jaw and angular shoulders have never bothered me. I've actually always liked being able to clearly identify traits that I inherited from my parents. With one exception though: The feet. Why, oh why, did I have to get those feet from him?

Don’t get me wrong, all feet are ugly.

But mine are in a class all their own. To start with, they are very veiny. You know how a guys hands look when he pumps a lot of iron? Yeah, that is what my feet look like. Steroidish.

The inherited feet-traits were bad enough on their own, but then I don’t really take care of my feet like I should. When I am outside I prefer to be barefoot which has resulted in some serious rough skin. Skin so thick that when I was in college I used a razor blade to remove old skin. I did it so much in one sitting that I began to bleed profusely (unknowingly). (Apparently American Idol was really good that episode). My skin was so thick that I had no idea that I had hit a main vein.

A gigantic steroidish vein, no doubt.

And when I was in Bangladesh a few weeks ago, my feet went to a whole ‘nother level of ugly. We spent most of the trip in sandals or barefoot. And my feet went places no feet should go.

Where?, you may ask.

My manly feet walked through mud and muck to visit villages that Christians have never been. To spend time with people and share with them that true forgiveness is available for all.

My feet stood in a chicken farm next to a very young girl who has made a decision to follow Christ and whose family has begun to beat her and to try to marry her off.

My feet walked through villages strewn with garbage to pray to God asking for healing for children facing unimaginable illness.

My feet sunk into a massive cow patty that was being dried for fuel.

They also splashed in unidentifiable liquids. (Ewww)

My feet rested on a caked mud floor as we prayed to a God that the homeowners have only recently heard of, yet do not yet know themselves.

We kicked off our sandals to play on play ground equipment: to slide, to swing, to laugh and to love.

My feet walked through the homes of missionaries whose own feet have walked away from the life that they had planned for themselves.

And after giving homeless beggars ladies their first shower in their lives, those same feet went into the grime that covered the shower floor. It was the grime that covers their bodies daily.

And I ashamedly, pulled back in disgust at what my feet had touched.

Repulsed by where my feet were.

And at the very moment . . .

as I cringed at where my feet had been . . .

God’s Spirit spoke so clearly to my heart:

How beautiful. . .
are the feet
of those who
bring good news,
who proclaim peace,
who bring good tidings,
who proclaim salvation,
who say “Our God reigns!"

I started to weep.

Beautiful? Caked with dirt, smelly, tired?

Has He seen these things? Oh yeah, that’s right; He sees all.

And My mom always told me that my feet “stunk to high heaven” so I know He has caught a whiff or two.

Even still, He says they are beautiful.

Those verses have always been humbling to read.

But "humbling" is not even close to being adequate to what I felt that night as I knew that the God of the universe was speaking those words directly to me.

To look down, mid-trip and cringe at my ugly, manly dirty feet and to know God was thinking, "How beautiful."

Most Prudent Investment Thus Far

This is me on the first day of our trip to South Asia:

. . .Wearing the outfit that I bought at a yard sale the week before.

For $1.50.

From Stewart Sink's wife; (the 2009 British Open winner).

These are a few of my co-workers:

. . . Mocking me.

. . . Asking if I was going to the Mission Field or Milan.

This is me on our 14-hour flight from Chicago to Abu Dhabi:

Why do I have such a smirk, you may ask.

In the words of the airline representative, "The lady in the white jacket looks very classy. I would like to upgrade as many people in your group as possible to first class."

This is what knowing that a $1.50 investment turned a $45,000.00 profit. ($9000 per person to upgrade from economy to business x 5 people.)

Just so you know, dearly loved mockers, I laughed about that all the way across the world.

. . . From my comfortable, ridiculously expensive airplane bed.

An Arkansas Thanksgiving

Since I was on the other side of the world this year for Thanksgiving, my sweet husband made me a video so I could feel like I was him.

Warning: Some of the content you are about to see is rather disturbing:

(It is a widescreen video, so I'd sugges doubleclicking the video to watch it on youtube instead of here so that you can see the whole thing.) Enjoy!

Think We Look Like Tourists?!?

We are not even attempting to blend-in at this point.